Once again, they are hungryand limping along east Africa’s coastlike gazelles with injured hooves.

Brush the ochre sand awayfrom their faces and, if I am honest,the blank eyes that stare

resemble my own and their countrylies deep within me like forgotten history.Each dirt-filled path they take

leads to evaporating rivers. Stilland still, even the most listless onesamong them continue to pray,

bending down on their bony kneesand empty stomachs, clutchingthat soft nothingness between their hands,

which when open dig simple gravesin the parched earth. And in my heart,each mound explodes like a landmine.

_____________________________________________

Bear

When they ambushed her, They did not care about her Two goodly cubs that waited Where she had left them— Safe in a thick part of the forest That had not yet been felled Or destroyed by wildfires Caused by climatic heat. The siblings huddled in fear

And pressed their noses Into each other’s fur for solace, Trusting the familial scent.

When she rose in defense As any parent would, As my own mother had done Many times when she was alive, They shot her for sport— In a man’s game or a woman’s. Later, over beer and vodka,

Belches and hiccups, they asked A rhetorical “Who cares?”

But all of nature responded— Canyons and caves echoed, Trees trembled, birds sung dirges At dusk and the wind hummed. When at last she lay still And her blood seeped into our Memory, we whom they called Hyper-empathetic animal Lovers and ef’ing tree huggers Spoke out even as they Threatened to shoot us down.

Copyright (C) 2014 by Peggy Ann Tartt. All rights, including electronic, are reserved by the author.